


Vivienne's Intervention

by MarlenaWatches



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Mention of Rape/Non-con, Mention of torture, Mention of underage/pedophilia, Other, Threat of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarlenaWatches/pseuds/MarlenaWatches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've wanted to write something like this for Vivienne for a while.  She needs taken down a peg.  The self-righteous Circle Mage comes face to face with some recipients of her precious Chantry's tender care.  Obvious canon divergence.</p><p>Also, yay Kudos!  Comments more than welcome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I've heard it said, Mage, that you believe a leash may be tugged from either end." A muffled groan was all that acknowledged this statement.

"Well, I must say I'm curious; just how much tugging are you willing to dare, given your current position? Would it truly be wise, do you think?"

The masked man circled her slowly, unwinding the long leather whip in his hands. He stopped at her back, and was silent as he gazed dispassionately down at the woman chained to the floor in front of him. He was rather impressed with himself; he'd never done this before after all, and yet he'd managed to truss her up as securely as any seasoned Templar prison warden.

Her arms were held aloft in ensorcelled shackles specifically designed to dampen magic, secured to the ceiling with a long iron chain. A thick leather collar of the same make encased her throat, linked to the floor by another bit of chain so short her head bowed forward, straining her shoulders. Her ankles were likewise shackled and secured to the floor, and the only relief her knees had from the cold, uneven stones beneath them were the incredibly expensive (and now ruined) set of tailored velvet robes hanging in tatters below her exposed breasts.

"I'm going to give you a taste of what a Mage's leash was like in Kirkwall's Gallows. The things the Templars there felt entitled, no, **_ordained_** , to do to people like you."

He walked back around to face her and her eyes widened as she caught sight of the whip. He let her have a long look at it, then set it on the wooden table beside him, the only piece of furniture visible in the stone cell.

The torches lining the walls flickered as she tried to call their fire to her. Casually, he called down a Smite in response, and turned to the door as she retched against her gag, stomach twisting at the sudden purging of her mana.   _Oh, Andraste....He's Templar trained..._

He spoke briefly with someone outside, then returned, leading five women and two men into the room, all stripped down to their small-clothes. When Vivienne could breathe again, she realized with sudden forboding that they were all Tranquil. The sun-shaped lyrium brand was prominent on every one of their foreheads.

The masked man lined them up against the wall facing the woman chained to the floor, and spoke with sarcastic enthusiasm; "Now then, Mage, I'd like you to meet some friends of mine!" He started with an older woman, graying blonde hair cut short over vacant green eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder as he said cheerfully "This is Sylvie! She was a Mage in the Kirkwall Circle for thirty-odd years; she passed her Harrowing, became a scholar of the healing arts, and taught young apprentices reading, writing, and Chantry-sanctioned casting techniques."

Then his voice turned hard and he continued quietly "Until she realized a senior Templar by the name of Ser Alrik was abusing apprentices. She caught him, you see, in a classroom with a girl barely old enough for her monthlies. Had the poor girl on her knees, and I'm afraid there was no mistaking what he had in her mouth." Vivienne winced, and looked away.

He stalked forward then, and grabbed her face roughly with one hand, "No, Mage, you will _look_ , you will _listen_ , and you will _understand_ why the Kirkwall Circle fell." She glared at him, tears welling, then looked back at Sylvie. " _Good_ girl."

He strolled back toward the line of silent Tranquil, hands clasped loosely behind him, and continued; "As you might expect, Sylvie went straight to Knight Commander Merideth to report Ser Alrik's blatant abuse, and do you know what happened then?" he turned and gazed steadily at Vivienne, his eyes glittering behind the matte black Volto covering his face, and declared; "Ser Alrik denied the whole thing, and the girl he'd taken advantage of was too terrified to talk, so Sylvie was whipped for lying; for besmirching the honor of a Templar."

He turned Sylvie around slowly, to show Vivienne the old scars crisscrossed on the Tranquil woman's back. Vivienne flinched at the sight. "Afterward, she started asking around among the other apprentices, trying to encourage them to step forward about how they'd been taken advantage of by Ser Alrik, and others like him. A hard sell, given that her back was still bloody from her own failed attempt at justice." He motioned for her to face forward once more, and Sylvie complied, moving just as she was bid to.

"It ended with the Rite of Tranquility. She was charged with inciting insubordination; fomenting rebellion."

He moved on to the next woman, this one much younger, her head shorn, large brown eyes blank and glassy. "This is Mariah. She was one of the apprentices Sylvie was trying to talk into coming forward." He moved her gently into the torchlight, and Vivienne saw faded stretch marks on the loose skin of her lower belly. "Not long after Sylvie was made Tranquil, A templar got Mariah with child. After she gave birth, they charged her with seducing and corrupting a Templar, and she was put to the Brand."

"Rena," he stepped down the line to the next girl, "went to see her dying brother at his home in Lowtown. They wouldn't give her permission to leave the Gallows, even with an escort, so she snuck out. They charged her with desertion and Apostasy, then Branded her."

"Myrtle is an elf, and as such was subject to....special....attention." He drew the petite woman forward, and Vivienne gasped as she saw that the tips of her ears had both been cut off, and one of her breasts was so crisscrossed with scar tissue the nipple was all but decimated beneath it.  He turned her around, and the state of the elf's back was such that Vivenne physically recoiled, nauseous. He moved on to the next.

"Brienne's case is a bit different.  She _chose_ the Rite of Tranquility instead of taking her Harrowing. She came to the Circle a little older than most; Her parents had tried to _hide_ her magic, you see. They used all manner of old folk remedies to try to press it out of her; fasting, beating, drowning, even called in some kind of priest, toward the end. They paid him a lot of coin and asked no questions about his methods. They left him alone with her for a day, at his instruction."

His hands clenched at his sides as he continued, "When the day was up, the priest was gone, and they found little Brienne lying naked on the floor of her room, bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts all over her body, singing Canticles at the ceiling while rain poured down from thin air. They called the Templars themselves at that point, fearing they'd been duped by a Blood Mage."  His mouth twisted, "Luckily, it turned out they'd only been duped by a violently psychotic pedophile."

His shoulders drooped visibly as he looked at the girl, voice wavering as he said "She'd been told, all her life, first by her parents, then by the Templars, that she was worse than worthless; a dangerous, noxious _Thing_ , to be contained, cauterized, and controlled. She was taught to be ashamed of what she was, taught that her magic made her filthy; hateful in the Maker's sight. _Cursed_. So she chose to sever herself from it. To make herself Clean." He took a breath, and moved on to the two men at the end of the row.

"This is Jerald and Liam. They were in love. And then they were caught together. The Chantry in Kirkwall isn't particularly accepting of those whose tastes run toward their own sex, and are even _less_ tolerant of _Mages_ with such proclivities."

He stood off to the side, and his voice was deceptively level as he commanded; "Look at them.  Look at what the Circle made of them.  How the Circle _failed_ them."  Vivienne looked.  He motioned them back out of the room, and once they'd filed out, he stepped purposefully toward the Mage, who eyed him in apprehension.

"This is what it was to be a Mage in Kirkwall's Circle.  Chained.  Humiliated.  Degraded."  He pulled the gag out of her mouth and she gasped in relief.  "You were well-treated in Ostwick, and once you'd clawed your way to Montsimmard?  You were only too happy to ignore or dismiss the stories coming out of Circles elsewhere as tall tales spouted by lazy malcontents.  You bedded your way into Society, shored up self-serving influence and flounced around in jewels and silks, playing politics with inbred Orlesian nobility.  All while children under the _tender_ care of Templars in places like Kirkwall starved and bled and died, and you DARE to say the Chantry's Circles deserve restoration?"  By the end of his tirade he was roaring in her face.  Terrified, she turned her head and sobbed.  He took a breath and stepped back.

"If the Circles are to persist, in ANY form, it will be as entities independent of Chantry control.  The Rite of Tranquility will be either banned altogether or relegated to the true Last Resort it was  _meant_  to be.  Templars will be _requested_ , as guardians and body guards, by whatever Senior Mage authority is formed to govern the reformed Circles.  I would  _like_ for you to be a part of this process.  Much as I _loathe_ you as a person, I know you are fantastically intelligent, in possession of substantial social standing, grace, and a knack for subtle manipulation.  You would be an asset; a stabilizing force in our efforts.  Use your talents to help us build a better Circle."

He reached out and turned her face toward him as he leaned down, his eyes boring into hers, murmuring, "Madame de Fer.  I've just shown you the problem.  I'm asking you to be a part of the solution."  She stared up at him, uncomprehending.  "I will be watching your progress with _great_ interest."  His hand tightened on her face and he whispered, "And please understand, I _will_ yank on your leash, should I observe anything I dislike."

With that, he straightened, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room, leaving her alone.

Ten minutes passed uneventfully, and just as Vivienne had resolved to scream for help, all the shackles clicked open, and her magic flared back, no longer suppressed.  Painfully she scrambled to her feet and hobbled out the open door, her battered knees complaining with each step.  A set of old wooden stairs led up to a storm cellar door.  She swung it open and blinked in the sudden sunlight.  She was on the edge of a field, surrounded by woodland, a cottage visible in the distance.  Wrapping her ruined robes around her as best she could, she made for the house, swearing she would find and eviscerate whoever had done this to her.   _He wishes me to be part of the solution, hmm?  Well, he'll get more than he bargained for.  Just wait and see._  She would play his game.  For now.

Two fields over, Garrett Hawke was grinning fiercely over the neck of his Courser, riding hard for the Ferelden border.  He pulled the mask from his face, and fire flared in his hand, incinerating it in seconds.   _Game on, Vivienne._  


	2. Holy Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I never expected this kind of attention.
> 
> All characters mentioned belong to Bioware and EA.

So! There's been a huge response to this work, most of it negative. I've stopped responding to comments (ok not really, I'm responding to some, but not the really rancid ones), because really it's just the same vitriol over and over again. I'm not going to delete them, because why should I; but neither will I delete the story. It's caused some interesting turmoil, and that, in and of itself, is cause to leave it up.

I wrote this about Vivienne because I think she's an awful person. Sera has the right of it; she's a Bitch. A social climber who doesn't seem to care about the little people who get lost in or hurt by The Game or the Chantry. Neither does she care about her fellow mages. So long as she can keep her position, her social standing, her power, she couldn't give two shits about whatever else.

Don't agree? Well lets roll through some of her dialogue, shall we?

Vivienne: I wish we had more proper Chevaliers in the Inquisition and fewer...lowlife thugs.  
Blackwall: No matter how much you pretend I'm furniture, I'm a person--with ears. That can hear you.  
Vivienne: You recognized yourself there? Good.

Aside from the open disgust and disdain she displays for Blackwall, I don't know if any of you remember the conversation you can have with the Orlesian merchant Liselle in the square of Denerim. This is in Dragon Age Origins, the first game of the series. Chevaliers, who Vivienne thinks so very highly of, regularly took liberties with the lower classes, and we get the rather unfortunate story of this Orlesian woman in particular. She fled the country because her brother protected her from a Chevalier who tried to rape her. A common occurrence, in Vivienne's beloved Orlais.

 

Blackwall: Do you have no sympathy for the mage rebellion?  
Vivienne: It's not as simple as you think, my dear.  
Blackwall: I understand that mages are dangerous. I know that if I had to face you, alone, I wouldn't stand a chance. But must it be more complicated than treating people the way you'd like to be treated?  
Vivienne: You're right in one thing. You wouldn't stand a chance against me.

Blackwall tries to start a constructive dialogue about practical, compassionate solutions to 'the mage problem', and Vivienne comes back at him with threats, contempt, and cut-offs. She sees him as beneath her, unworthy of a meaningful discussion, despite his status as one of the Inquisition's allies, same as herself.

 

Cole: You don't use blood magic, Vivienne.  
Vivienne: Of course not. Such magic is a tool for the weak. That the Warden mages resorted to it is pitiful.  
Cole: Trembling, my knife at his throat. Not this, not this, swore I'd do whatever they asked but not this. In death, sacrifice. His hand grips my wrist, pulls the blade across his throat. I'm sorry.  
Vivienne: As I said... pitiful.

Her comments here betray a complete lack of empathy or capability for compassion. No wonder she does not get along with Cole!

 

Cole: You were happy at the Winter Palace, Vivienne.  
Vivienne: Your point, demon?  
Cole: You were still sharp, but happy. Golden, glittering, everything gleamed. Rules that let you win.  
Vivienne: One does not wish to brag.  
Cole: That's why you're happier being a noble than a mage. You fear demons, not people.  
Vivienne: People can only kill you.  
Cole: Gown perfect, shoes perfect, hat perfect, staff a symbol, not a weapon. My room, my people. Mine.  
Vivienne: Out, please.

Well! At least she says 'please'. I would also like to point out that that 'winning' is a concept which Vivienne holds near and dear to whatever passes for her heart, which figures largely into her upset at Morrigan's rise in the Imperial Court.

 

Cole: Uncultured barbarian witch.  
Vivienne: I beg your pardon, demon?  
Cole: Jaws ache, dress stiff, binding. Years of work, favors fought, deals dealt, and the witch usurped my position.  
Vivienne: Remove yourself from my head.  
Cole: You're angry at Morrigan. She took what you had without working.  
Vivienne: She took nothing. If Empress Celene wished the counsel of some untrained witch, she was free to seek it.  
Cole: Celene did not make you go away. She respected you.  
Vivienne: She feared the consequences of angering me.

Any magic or mage not of the Circle is inherently inferior in her mind. The possibility that disciplines other than her own may have merit she might benefit from never enters into her head. She automatically focuses on what has been 'taken' from her in social standing and political power, rather than what might be gained from an exchange of knowledge. Greeting the apostate witch as a possible equal is apparently too much for her Pride. That isn't to say Morrigan would have been amenable, but Vivienne obviously never even ATTEMPTED civil discourse.

Dorian: Vivienne, are you saying you wouldn't rather live in a land where mages aren't herded into cages like dogs?  
Vivienne: Which land is that? The one where mages are feared and despised as tyrants?  
Dorian: I'm the first to admit magisters aren't perfect, but they've also done great things. They're allowed to.  
Vivienne: Monstrous things as well, or you wouldn't be here, would you?  
Dorian: Locking people into cages isn't the answer.  
Vivienne: Naturally. First we execute those who will not submit, then we deal with the rest.

Which she does, if she becomes Divine. Am I really the only one here who takes issue with her attitudes and statements here?

 

Solas: The fact that I, an apostate, have not been enslaved by demons must be quite vexing, Enchanter.  
Vivienne: Not at all, darling. You clearly have an exceptional gift for the Fade.  
Solas: You flatter me.  
Vivienne: I'm far more surprised you haven't been murdered by terrified villagers wielding pitchforks.  
Solas: Yes, packing all the mages into towers and threatening them with Templars certainly kept them safe.  
Vivienne: It did, until a rogue apostate destroyed Kirkwall's Chantry and started a fight most mages did not want.  
Solas: Your Circle was a tightly clamped lid on a boiling pot. It held for a while, and, unless you looked inside, it all seemed fine. And everyone feigned surprise when it finally burst.

THIS exchange, RIGHT here, displays Vivienne's blatant willful ignorance about the state of Circles outside of Montsimmard. She doesn't know how bad it had got in places like Kirkwall, and honestly, she doesn't care. So long as she can keep her own position of power and comfort within the rules set by an organization that despises her for what she is, all is well as far as she's concerned.

 

Vivienne: You must be disappointed, apostate. Your rebels have not found the freedom they hoped for.  
Solas: I planted no seeds in your garden, Enchanter. You grew that fruit yourself.  
Vivienne: And I will once again ensure they are protected from a world that hates and fears them.  
Solas: While mages live in deprivation you do not share? You lord their mystique over those not so gifted. Well played, Enchanter. In another age you might have ruled an empire.  
Vivienne: You are too kind, my dear. But this age is still young.

Solas points out that Vivienne does not share in the constraints she wishes brought back for mages, and the climbing, grasping hypocrisy of that stance. She responds by agreeing that she could rule an empire. Just wow. This leads into their next interaction....

Vivienne: So, apostate. If the Circle is such a failure, what would be your solution? Would you have your fellow mages live among the people, unguarded, unwatched?  
Solas: Yes.  
Vivienne: And when they became possessed, or use their power to harm?  
Solas: I would kill them. Magic is more elegant than a blade or a bow, but a murderer remains a murderer.  
Vivienne: So you alone would pass judgment, repay murder with murder, or do we open this up to mobs and vigilantes? If you're going to dispense judgment upon violent mages yourself, you'll need eternal life and omniscience. If only there were individuals dedicated to finding and eliminating such criminals. Perhaps they might help?  
Solas: I am certain they would. Until black and white distinctions perverted their simple minds.

And here we have yet another example of Vivienne's arrogance and hypocrisy. She SAYS, in her OWN WORDS, that SHE will ensure mages are protected from a world that hates and fears them, but in the very next conversation she accuses Solas of passing autonomous judgment and sentence. It is completely discordant.

 

Vivienne: I am pleased that such engagements were enjoyable for everyone. Even those with no grasp of subtle, social interplay might enjoy the pageantry.  
Solas: It is all pageantry, Enchanter.  
Vivienne: Isn't everything?

She sees all of life as nothing more than the Game, and does not care that the invisible masses suffer for it.

I wrote this work because the contradictions and hypocrisy of Vivienne's character bothered me, and I wanted to figure out a way to force her to actually LOOK at the crimes of the institution she regards as benign, civilized, and righteous. This is what I came up with, because I honestly can't see her giving any credence to the words of those beneath her (meaning everyone) in any other way.

This work has obviously upset many of you. You've made assumptions about my motivations that border on depraved. You've accused me of racism, which I genuinely don't understand. I judge people based on the content of their character, not the color of their skin. That so many of you seem to think the two are intrinsically linked is your problem, not mine. I thank you all for reading, and commenting. I'll be posting more soon.


End file.
